


The Game

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: The Tudors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Tallis' thoughts on his relationship with William Compton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Restricted Work] by [HeyDagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyDagger/pseuds/HeyDagger). Log in to view. 



> Written and originally posted in November 2007.

Thomas Tallis did not play games. He enjoyed an occasional insouciant grace note, of course, and an arpeggio or two in unexpected places. He had even been known to make sarcastic comments from time to time, but he did not tell jokes and he did not play games. He didn't have time.

He was a little unsure, therefore, when Sir William proposed a game to him late one evening.

"It's quite simple," William repeated, patiently. "One of us hides, naked, somewhere in the house. The other has to find him."

"And then?"

"And then..." William looked at him pointedly.

There had been a lot of "and then..." in the last few weeks. More than Thomas would have expected to receive in a lifetime, if he'd ever stopped to think about it. It wasn't all William's doing, either. At times, Thomas had been quite shocked at his own lasciviousness. Just as he couldn't see a musical instrument without having to play at least a few notes, he couldn't see William for any length of time without needing to touch him. William was never satisfied with just a "few notes."

"There are other people in the house," Thomas reminded him.

William shrugged. "The servants will have retired by now. If not, they're quite used to me having guests. They're very discreet."

How often had they needed to exercise that discretion? Thomas thought, but he didn't say it. It was the kind of thing William would ask, along with "How many men have you been with?" "How many women?" "Were they better than me?" "Were they smarter than me?" and on and on until Thomas had to roll over and drown him out with an imagined fugue or elegy.

Worse still was the unspoken question Thomas saw every time he looked into William's eyes. "Do you love me yet?" Thomas would never answer it. He didn't need to give William any more power than he already held.

"I'll go first," William volunteered. He was already more than halfway to naked. Perhaps out of deference to Thomas's uneasiness, he retained his undergarments and said: "You stay here and count to a hundred, then come find me." He left the room without waiting for further argument.

Thomas sat on the bed and looked around the room as he waited. He had never experienced opulence to the degree he'd lived it in William's chambers in London, and now on his estate in the country. Compton Wynates was a paradise of never-ending food and wine, of goose down beds and soft sheets and finely tailored clothes worthy of royalty, or at least aristocracy. If, for some inconceivable reason, Thomas wanted something William didn't have--a peacock to match his doublet, or perhaps a lute fashioned from pieces of the true cross--he had only to ask. William had told him as much when they first arrived.

"The moon might take some time," William had added, "But if that is what my love desires, then I will find a way to procure it for him." Thomas had felt himself blushing at the unnecessary grandiosity of it, while a nearby servant stared impassively into the distance.

Now, Thomas had been at Compton Wynates only a few days, but already he could feel himself getting used to the lifestyle it embodied. And that was dangerous.

Earlier that day, the fifth in a row he'd spent in Warwickshire, Thomas had left the house and gone to the field beyond the garden, seeking respite from the excess. He sat beneath a tree, expecting to hear the music he almost always heard. Instead, he'd heard horses and birds and that was all. He'd barely been outside ten minutes when he found his mind wandering to what the cook might be making for lunch, and if William might wish to go for a ride in the afternoon.

Luxury, Thomas realized then, was sapping his creativity like a parasite. It was just as well that Wolsey had commanded him to France. If he stayed at Compton Wynates much longer, he would be rendered completely useless, a ridiculous fop thinking only of clothes, food, diversions and sex. Thomas was no man's master, but he was damned if he would end up anyone's mistress.

When a few minutes had passed, Thomas ventured out of the bedroom. He had no idea where to begin looking, but he peered into empty rooms and behind doorways. He was nearly at the bottom of the grand staircase when he saw a flickering light coming from one of the chambers. Thomas couldn't help but smile to himself. Clearly, William had hidden to be found.

Thomas had almost reached the open door when he heard voices from within.

"I wasn't expecting you back just yet," William said. Thomas stopped and stepped back into the shadows. "I came downstairs to see if the cook had left some cold venison in the larder." William was no liar. It sounded hollow even to Thomas.

"Indeed?" A woman's voice, somewhat amused, replied inside the room. "Then I won't keep you from your mission any longer, William."

Thomas didn't move fast enough. By the time he realized the woman was coming his way, she was already in the hallway, looking at him with a curious, but not unfriendly, expression.

"Good evening," the woman smiled, and Thomas wished he could disappear. "I'm Lady Hastings. I don't believe we've met."

Thomas had been slightly scandalized when he learned the woman well accepted as William's wife was not, in fact, married to him. His shock was tempered when he realized if William was not technically married, then they were not, technically, committing adultery.

"Thomas Tallis," Thomas said, because he couldn't say nothing. He expected a cold look and some unkind words, maybe a slap if William had said anything to her. Instead, Lady Hastings said, "I believe Sir William has had rather a lot to drink. I trust you will see him safely to his bed." Thomas couldn't tell if she was teasing him or not. It didn't get any clearer when she added: "We are to meet in the morning to discuss the household spending. Please don't allow him to oversleep." Then she was gone, leaving Thomas speechless.

A moment later, William appeared. "You, my dear, are not a quick study at this game." He smiled.

"That was your wife."

"Not my wife," William corrected automatically, as he always did. "Lady Hastings."

"She's very..." Thomas wasn't sure how to describe her.

"Reasonable," William put in. "Intelligent. Creative. I wouldn't waste my time on anyone less." He looked at Thomas, who supposed it was meant to be a compliment.

"She truly doesn't mind?" Thomas was baffled by this. He already suspected that, eventually, William would cease to believe Thomas made the sun shine and the flowers bloom. Thomas had assumed that, when this moment came, they would part ways, hopefully amicably. Lady Hastings raised questions. Would William expect him to stay nearby, sharing his affection with whoever next caught Sir William's eye?

"She knows I can love more than one person at a time," William said. "And she knows I would never bring someone into our home unless I loved him." He smiled. "Let's abandon this game. I'm sure I can find something more...inspiring to offer you upstairs."

"Inspiring?" Thomas repeated.

"Hopefully." William's smile turned into a grin. "I admit, I rather relish the thought of the Queen attending Mass and listening to the choir perform Mr. Tallis's latest feat of genius, 'Ode to Sir William Compton's Massive Cock.'"

Thomas laughed, first from surprise and then at the mental imagery of the pious Queen whispering her devotions to such an orchestration.

William, evidently encouraged, threw an arm around Thomas's shoulder and escorted him up the stairs.

***

"I will miss you," Thomas said, again, as they lay in William's bed afterwards.

William reacted as skeptically as he had the first time Thomas had said it. "You will when you're sleeping on a cold floor somewhere surrounded by snoring, farting servants."

"No. The whole time I'm away."

William opened his eyes. "I love you."

Thomas didn't allow himself to be drawn. "I'll come back," he said. "If that's what you're worried about." He had to. Going to France would be good for his music, possibly good his career, and definitely good for him. He had to remind himself what real life was like. But Thomas knew he would be back, as soon as he possibly could.

Besides, he thought, as long as he didn't end up trading gossip and beauty tips with Anne Boleyn, what harm could it do to enjoy a wealthy lover?

"I'll be here," William said, pulling up a blanket and resting his head on Thomas's shoulder.

Thomas knew that. And, despite everything, it was comforting to be sure of that one fact.


End file.
